So what is brown, smelly, rather small, and uncomfortable? Yes, it’s a Nissan 720 pickup! What could it do for me? Could it haul the whole family in comfort? No. Could it pull down the Eiffel tower? No. Was it stylish and sporty? No. So what exactly could it do?

Firstly however, I must say that writing about these Japanese pickups is always the toughest assignment. They don’t do anything exciting, don’t blow up or catch fire, don’t have weird quirks and generally just work when called on; how boring. But I needed an economical little pickup because I was making runs to the dump now and then, and needed a car to get to work in. Why not combine the two and get a small pickup?

In some regards, I was missing the efficient and utilitarian Toyota pickup I had owned before. But this time it had to be an extended cab. So I started searching for a little pickup, 4×4 of course. But I only had about a thousand bucks to spend. I knew that would never get me another Toyota. So maybe a Ford Ranger/Mazda 2300, or a Chevy LUV 4×4, or Dodge D50, or a Nissan 720? It turned out to be the Nissan 720 that came up for twelve hundred dollars.

It was located about twenty miles away in the middle of nowhere, and it was snowing, no less. My primary vehicle was indisposed in some way; I can’t quite remember why, and I had no transportation at all. So I called up my friend Chris who owns a clapped out old Cavalier. I asked him if he could take me to look at a truck, and he agreed.

The sun was going down and the snow and sleet were getting worse when we left. I took the wheel, partly because I know I enjoy driving more than Chris, and secondly because I hate being a passenger. Now I should mention here that Chris, as I think we may have mentioned before, has an ongoing struggle with machines. It is Chris’ contention that machine should work worry free and require nothing from the user except initial purchase. Now, I can’t agree more with the theory, but Chris refuses to except the reality. The reality that some understanding of their function is still required even in the modern world in which we live. The reality that at least basic maintenance and checks are required to keep any, and especially an aging Cavalier, on the road. But such is not the case with Chris; the reality of owning an older car for Chris is really no fun at all, so it’s a reality best to just be avoided (as if that was possible).

There I was driving down the dark icy highway and I happened to glance at the oil pressure gauge. It was bouncing around five or ten PSI. I asked him if that was normal. Chris said ” well, every time it gets like that, I check the oil and it says it’s low, so I put more in and then it shoots up to like sixty or something, so I just keep it like that”. I was speechless for awhile, calculating how far we would have to walk in the snow and ice to get back to civilization.

We were entering a small town as this conversation took place. Since I once lived there, I knew the back roads. As we turned unto one of my shortcut roads I could hear the lifters starve for oil and the gauge went to zero. I pointed out to Chris that we would not reach our destination like that, but of course he had no oil on board. Luckily his brother lived right by our route. I straightened the car out and the pressure came slowly back up. It was about three miles to his brother’s house, and when we pulled into the driveway I could hear every part of the engine crying out for oil like the Tin Man.

Chris’s brother gifted us with about four quarts of oil and we started the car. It ran just like it had never had a problem; oil pressure shot up to about sixty five. As we continued on, I explained the basics of oil starvation and pump cavitation. And Chris said: “oh, you see, I had that little gauge all wrong; now I get it.”

When we finally arrived it was freezing cold and the weather was only getting worse. We found the truck based on some vague directions. It was in front of a pitch black farm out in the yard. It was camouflage with a canopy and big tires. It looked pretty good. So I found my way to the door of the house. A man came to the door and told me that the owner actually lived up the road but that he would call him for me. We waited awhile in the car; oh, I forgot to mention that the Cavalier had no heat either. Chris carried a rag to wipe the windows off, a la VW Bug, and that was it; good times!

When the man finally came, he started it up and mentioned that it smoked a little (a bad start). So I took it for a test drive. It drove OK but the gas was very low and I could really hear the valves clattering. I asked him how I was supposed to drive it back with no gas and he said he had some in a can. I asked him when he had last adjusted the valves and he said never. So I popped the hood and looked at it while it was running, dying flashlight in hand. I pulled off the oil cap to check for blow-by, and boy was there ever blow-by. It looked like a steam engine pulling out of the station with a load of ore.

I turned to the man and thanked him, barely. I told him it was just a little too much of a project for me right now. So we made our way back home in the terrible weather, in a terrible car, with no heat.

But a few days later I saw an ad for two more 720s. I went to look at one but it too was a project. I never started it; I just took one look under the hood, and asked about the title, and walked away. I went to see the next one, which was listed for eleven hundred dollars. It was on a farm about ten miles north of me. When I got there I had a good feeling. I looked it over: it was fecal brown with orange stripes and big 4X4 decals on the sides. It was rusty, but the cab was OK. Everything but the power steering worked. The man said it had never had power steering; I wondered about that. But it ran good. The cab floor was very wet though; he said it was because he left the window down. Everything checked out on it and the tires were almost new, so I bought it with no haggling.

The wet cab floor proved to a problem with rust around the fresh air intake under the cowl. It had rusted through at the welds and water was running into the heating fan and unto the floor. It was nearly impossible to see the intake and taking the cowl off was a bigger deal than I wanted it to be. So I wire brushed it as best I could, painted on some phosphoric acid treatment, and applied a bunch of silicone with my finger. It worked and it never leaked again.

The power steering pump was there, but empty. How long it had gone that way, I will never know. But I filled it up and it worked fine, although it did leak some. I had all of the fluids changed and cleaned the Weber carburetor filter, adjusted the valves, replaced the ignition components, and did a tune-up.

I drove the truck for awhile, but I got to really hating the gearing and the engine’s torque band. It had the ubiquitous NapZ motor which was never really designed for trucks. Plus the gearing was highway oriented, so one had to give it plenty of clutch and gas to get rolling. This was essentially the opposite of the way my Toyota had been set up and it reminded me of one of my old Bronco II’s. The gas mileage was the same as a Bronco II as well, nineteen mpg on the highway, fifteen or so around town. Not great for a small truck. Off-road, the limited axle articulation, high gearing, and independent front suspension limited it quite a bit.

During this time my friend Steve had bought my Land Rover Discovery and was making payments to me. He was up to around eleven hundred dollars when he lost his job. He told me he could not make any more payments until he found another job. So I offered him the Nissan truck in exchange for the Land Rover, along with no more payments. He liked the idea and I gave him the Nissan. As you know, I drove the Land Rover around for awhile and then sold it too. The 720 worked great for Steve, as he was living on a semi-communal farm in Eugene and he was tasked with dump runs and such.

Eventually Steve moved back to Salem and I was driving the Lexus ES250 at the time. I could see that the Nissan no longer suited his needs and I really felt out of place in the Lexus. So we traded again, Steve with the Lexus, which he loved, and I with the Nissan.

While Steve had owned it, he had had the power steering leak fixed, an alignment done, and had the head gasket replaced. When I got it the tires were worn down but it ran great as usual. Of course it was just as uncomfortable and the driving experience was still just as bad.

So I sold it and used the money for a family car which is coming up. I can’t say I miss it a bit. It was a tool, not a car, and the guy who bought it is going to use it on his farm to haul fire wood. So it will be back in it’s natural element doing what it was meant to do and I wish it a good life.

16 Comments

it fascinates me how much work you will put into a vehicle and then just trade it away. i find it difficult to find the time to bring the vehicle and pay someone else to fix it. but then again, i will spend days fixing a computer and then sell it on ebay for almost nothing. if i had a driveway and a garage instead of a new york apartment, i might be more like you…

My 720 was also a king cab. 3 speed auto, blue and when done, over 250,000 miles. It carried a full cord of firewood with it and the Datsun trailer that tagged along behind it. I thought (and think) it was about the best little truck I could buy. It went through several years of air conditioning service, chimney sweeping, and firewood deliveries. Never found it lacking. A carburated 2.2 versus your 2.4 and the change of name are the biggest differences from yours. Never wanted a toyota or ranger etc the whole time I had it. Didn’t understand why anyone would. Next to my impala it was the best work vehicle I owned.

Michael, I know EXACTLY what you mean. My father bought one of these in either 1980 or 81. It was the most uncharacteristic vehicle he ever bought. A bright red King Cab with the rollbar/lightbar at the front of the bed. He lived in the country and bought it to plow about 1/4 mile of road in winter and for general utility the rest of the year. It is the only truck, the only red vehicle and the only stick shift vehicle he ever owned during my lifetime.

About 1984 or 85, I was about 4 weeks away from the end of a year away at school when the differential of my 71 Scamp was getting really noisy. Dad let me take King Cab back to school, and I drove it for about 3 weeks. You are mostly right, Michael. It was geared really tall (I cannot imagine plowing with it), it was really rough riding, and it had one of the widest turning circles of anything I ever drove. Couple that to some of the nastiest manual steering I ever drove, and parking the thing would almost wear a guy out.

You are wrong about one thing, though. It was NOT geared for highway if the highway had any grades at all. At any kind of a hill, the torqueless wonder would bog down, requiring a shift to 4th, where the engine would scream at you until you got to the top of the hill.

Several years later, one of my younger brothers went “4 wheelin'” and rolled it over. It was only the fact that it was 4wd that kept it from being totalled out, because it required replacement of every single body panel. When it came back, it was virtually a new truck. Plus, it was now a Nissan.

The younger brothers drove it for quite awhile, but it finally got rusty enough that it was not really safe. Also, Dad’s health was not as good, and he sold it and had someone else do the plowing. Thanks for dredging up some forgotten memories, Michael.

I test flew one of these in Hobart but the horrendous noise it made when I engaged 4WD and pointed it up a embankment made me nurse it gently back to the dealer in case it was you break it you bought it The diesel engine went ok but the front wheel transmission was toast. The petrol Datsun engines of that era are one of the most evil headgasket munching devices ever devised…..No Thanx.

Ah, memories. One of our employees had one of these (regular cab 4 x 4) and somehow managed to sell it on to the company. It knocked around for a couple years transporting workers from Denver to various oil rig sites in Wyoming, Eventually it ended up on a drilling site in the Grand Tetons about 50 miles south of Jackson Hole. The site was something like 40 miles and 4000 vertical feet up from the nearest paved road and the rig spent six months on that mountain in the dead of winter, so the little truck stayed permanently on the site as runabout from our lab unit to the rig camp, and to get us down off the mountain on crew change days.

I drove it quite a lot and as the author said, it was a tool, and nothing more. A bit of tin and a clattery engine, and the thing rode as if it had no suspension at all. With that said, I quite liked the little beasty in its preferred element, which apparently was grinding along in 4wd at 20MPH in foot-deep snow on a dirt road clinging to the side of a cliff.

One crew change day, as I headed down the mountain, I got stuck behind a moose. The road was one lane with chest-high snowbanks on either side, so there was no going around it. I hooted the horn, flashed the lights and rolled up as close as I dared, and the animal just ambled along at a slow walk, completely ignoring me. I must have traveled five miles at moose pace before he finally decided to leave the road. Those little trucks just never did get much respect.

I don’t remember when the 720 came out in NZ, but I do remember the advertising blitz when the 720 Kingcab was later introduced. You’d have thought they invented the extended cab concept! And actually, with the stripes and white whels etc, the 720 Kingcab was by far the sportiest looking ute on the market back in the day (the Mitsi L200 came close, but it only had a standard cab). I spent several hundred kilometres in an ’84 720 Kingcab back in 1990, en route to school camp. It was comfy, ran well, looked good in bright red with white wheels. The owner and driver (my school teacher’s husband) said the gearbox was rubbish though, and had to double-clutch it everywhere. They used to be everywhere but I hardly ever see them now – they had a strong propensity to return to the natural elements from whence they were created. The Navara (or whatever it’s called in the States) holds the Nissan ute flag now (and still has a Kingcab!).

They were among the first elsewhere. I visited Saipan and virtually everyone who made japanese pickups had a king cab or four door pickup there. Lots of things didn’t ever get here. One thing for sure, the seventy something king cab featured here a while back had to be among the first.

I had one of these for a couple of years, but it was a two-wheel drive with the diesel.

On the highway, they are LOUD (mine didn’t have carpet, only the rubber floormat)! On my maiden trip home with the vehicle, I actually had to stop after 30 miles on the road and stuffed rolled-up tissue paper in my ears because I had such a bad headache from the din.

Yes, it was a tool that served a purpose. I could get 30-35mpg with the diesel on the highway, so it was fairly economical to drive.